God's Gift Comes With A Price
by QueenAnne30
Summary: Arthur Prince of Wales, survives his illness in 1502, but not without dire consequences for the Tudor Line. Just how would The Tudor Line continue, when there is a King Arthur II instead of a King Henry? And what would become of Henry if he were not to be King, would he still be the tryrant obsessed with a male heir, would he be something better? Or Something worse?
1. Chapter 1

**Ok so here it is the first chapter of my new story. After much consideration and in listening to everyone else's opinions I decided to go with the least popular choice ha-ha, to anyone that wanted the sweating sickness challenge or the marques of Pembroke challenge to be chosen I am sorry, but do not despair both of them will be written in time, in fact I did start writing the first chapter of the sweating sickness challenge, when a desire to write this story overcame me as I thought it would be the most interesting to explore. **

**So here it is my response to the King Arthur challenge. **

**First let me note a few details about this story, I will be sticking to the show in terms of appearances, but to history on mostly everything else, as much as is possible in an AU that is, most notably as in an Act of fate, Mary and Margret Tudor will not be mixed as one person, they will be as they were in history two very different individuals. **

**To anyone that is worried that my commencement of this story will in anyway affect An Act of Fate, do not worry, An act of Fate will remain my priority, and I will try to update both around the same time when I can, in fact the next chapter of An act of Fate is currently being written.**

**Anyway on with the story, as usual I own nothing, I hope you all enjoy. **

_**Summary: Arthur Prince of Wales, survives his illness in 1502, but not without dire consequences for the Tudor Line. Just how would The Tudor Line continue, when there is a King Arthur II instead of a King Henry VIII? And what would become of Henry if he were not to be King, would he still be the tryrant obsessed with a male heir, would he be something better? Or Something worse? **_

**Chapter One: A miracle. **

* * *

**2****nd**** of April 1502 **

**Ludlow Castle Wales **

_**Residence of the Prince and Princess of Wales. **_

Four people knelt in prayer, all of them in different parts of the palace of Ludlow, all of them in essence praying for the same thing, even if in a way they all wanted a different outcome.

* * *

King Henry, in the large chapel of Ludlow, was praying for the life of his eldest child, his Prince of Wales, his golden boy. When Henry had heard of Arthur's sickness he, and Elizabeth had left for Ludlow immediately taking with them, his own personal physician and Harry. Arthur couldn't die,, not now, he was too young, he had not even reached his sixteenth birthday and he was just newly married. A marriage, Henry thought, which had taken great pains to bring about.

Although Henry knew within his heart that the marriage between Arthur and Katherine had been a good one, a fine match worthy for the future King of England, his mothers voice, her fear of Spanish blood tainting the Tudor line, still entered his thoughts sometimes. His Lady mother feared for the succession as much as he himself did, and how could he not, with the war of roses still ever so present in his and everyone else's minds. There was not much his mother and wife agreed upon, in fact there was almost nothing they _ever_ agreed upon, they were too different and in a way they were too similar too, they were both too stubborn and unwilling to relent, and yet they had both shared a certain level of distaste of his choice of bride for Arthur. They had been in agreement thought an English match would be best, but Henry had known that Arthur would need a strong powerful woman by his side, and what better then an Infata of Spain.

She was a pleasant child, young Katherine, she was pleasing to look at, and had a level of intelligence usually only found in males. She was a good match for his eldest, Arthur who was shy and docile, who had an even and calm temperament, he needed a woman with fire and passion, Henry had known upon first meeting young Katherine that she would do his son well, and it was his greatest hope that the two of them would bear many healthy Tudor princes and princesses', it was the two of them that would bring about his golden age. His line would live through them. Elizabeth upon meeting the girl, had instantly changed her sentiments, his wife was too kind to ever truly hold anything against a young innocent girl who was simply doing as she was bid, just as his wife had done when she had married him (against her own wishes), his mother had not been so forgiving, she hated young Katherine with a passion, almost as much as she detested the fact that Arthur was her first born grandchild, another thing his wife and mother had in common, Harry was their favorite.

Henry loved all his children, be they boys or girls, but it was no secret to anybody, that his eldest two were his favorites; just as his youngest two were Elizabeth's. Arthur and Margret were his Tudor heirs, while Harry and Mary reminded him too much of the Yorks and Woodville's. This was another reason why he could not afford to lose his eldest, oh yes he would be heartbroken at the death of his child, just as he had been heartbroken when little Edmund had died so unexpectedly, but that was not the only reason he could not afford to lose his son. If Arthur died, young Harry would become his Prince of Wales, the future King of England, and Henry feared how such an outcome would eventuate. There was too much of his Grandfather in him, Elizabeth had spoiled him too much, Arthur was the King England deserved, the one that was promised, young Harry was not fit to rule, as much as he loved his son he was not born to be a king, surely God would see that.

* * *

Queen Elizabeth too, was knelt in prayer, seated in her own chambers in front of the wooden crucifix she had bought with her to Ludlow, her rosary beads clasped in her hands as she prayed furiously for the life of her son. Elizabeth had finally thought that her family had found peace, she had been content with what had become of her life for the first time in years, what had she done to cause her such punishments now, why was it that God would take away her youngest boy just over a year ago and now he would try to take away her oldest as well. Had she not suffered enough misery in her years?

She had thought the loss of Edmund had been terrible, but when she was told that Arthur might not make it to see his sixteenth birthday she had all but felt her heart burst in two. Had God not taken enough from her? Sometimes she felt as if she were cursed, as if her York blood was cursed. Her husband thought so too, he would never say such words out loud but Elizabeth could see it in his eyes at times, when Edmund had died she had saw it, he blamed her and her blood, when he looked at Harry and Mary she saw it too, he thought them too much like her. Neither of them had wanted their marriage, Elizabeth had wanted to take the throne of England for herself (as was her right, she had a better claim) but her mother had warned her against it, pleaded with her almost, to marry the Tudor boy and keep their line, her fathers legacy alive through their children, _England will never accept a female monarch_. In a way she had grown to love him, and sometimes she thought he too loved her, it wasn't until Arthur was born that she truly felt it, that she knew she did love him, for he had given her, her children, and after so many years of marriage (and the birth of five children) a certain level of fondness was almost always going to develop. However, it was not the love she had dreamed of as a little girl, it was not the love she had grown up surrounded in when she looked at her parents, and while Henry had never been unfaithful to her, or even unkind to her in anyway, he held no passion for her, he loved her yes, but he would survive without her, just as she would survive without him.

That was part of the reason she had been so against Arthur's marriage to the Spanish princess, she had wanted him to be able to fall in love with his wife, not simply love her through obligation. She wanted her son to feel passion and excitement, not simply a desire to fill his wife with children. Perhaps now she would never see what would have become of her sons marriage, the two of them had seemed quite besotted with each other, and Elizabeth knew the marriage was most certainly consummated. Although she had been shocked to hear that Arthur had bragged about such an event, it was so unlike her eldest to be boastful and confident, that was more of young Harry's way, oh yes, even at eleven, Harry was a confident child, sometimes she felt as if he was her father reincarnated. Elizabeth just knew he would have a way with the ladies aswell, just another reason Elizabeth wanted her husband to give up his absurd notion about Harry joining the clergy. Surely this, Arthur's illness, would make him see that it was essential that Harry marry and father children. She would try to convince Henry once Arthur was well, mayhapes she may even go to her mother-in –law about such a matter, Margret Beaufort was just as distressed at the idea as Elizabeth was, after all Harry was her favorite, a funny thing really given how much he was like King Edward.

Arthur would be well again. Elizabeth had to believe it, God would not take another child from her so curly he would not cast her family into such uncertainty again, Elizabeth had to believe that. Arthur still has so much life left to live.

* * *

Prince Henry (Or Harry as he demanded to be called) Tudor, Duke of York, sat kneeling in his bedchamber, as he had been instructed to do. He had to pray to God to spare the life of his brother, his mother and father had said so, as had his Lady Grandmother before they had left Court to go to Ludlow, although she had not been so adamant in her demand. Margret and Mary had not journeyed with them, his grandmother had said it was because they were not as important as he was, his mother had said it was because their hearts were too tender to deal with such matters, he liked his Grandmothers explanation better, he was very important.

Not as important as Arthur of course, but that may soon change if Arthur didn't survive his illness. Not that Harry wished for that of course he didn't, it would be a wicked thing to wish, and he loved his brother very much, but sometimes Harry did wish that he was the older brother and not just the second son, not just the spare. If he were the Prince of Wales Harry would never have gotten sick, for he was too strong and brave for such things, and he would be a good and just ruler just like his father, but he would also be loved just like his Grandfather King Edward. If he were King, he knew he would make a good husband too and he was sure Princess Katherine would much prefer to be married to someone brave and strong like Harry rather than Arthur who liked his books and studies far too much and who was much too stern nowadays.

But Harry knew none of that would ever happen, Arthur would get better (just like Harry wanted him too) and he and Katherine would have lots of children, and Harry would just be stuck in a church for the rest of his life.

Harry didn't want to lose his brother, but still a little voice in his head couldn't help but think that King Henry the eighth had a nice ring to it.

* * *

Catalina (or Katherine as she was now styled) wept loudly her head resting on her husbands leg, as he lay in their bed, looking weak and pale, Katherine had heard the talk, there was not much hope for his survival. Some even blamed Katherine for her husbands sickness, as if she were a curse on him, it was hard not to believe really since everyday since their wedding night he had only gotten sicker. Yet she too had fallen ill, her bout of illness however had been neither as severe nor as long as her husbands.

_Be Strong my Daughter and remember who you are, _her mothers parting words to her echoed in her mind, not for the first time since she had reached English soil. She was finding it hard to be brave now however, how was she supposed to be brave when everything was falling to pieces around her. What would she do if Arthur died, oh she didn't know how she would survive, she was in love with him and she was not afraid to say it. Her husband was kind and sweet and loving and he had given her everything she had ever asked for, he had not minded her foreign tongue nor dress, and he was yet to look at another woman since the day of their wedding, six months ago now. She had thought they would live a long and happy life, to rule as King and Queen of people's hearts, she would give him many children, boy and girls, and their line would give birth to the golden age, that her husbands parents so desperately wanted, now all she had dreamed of seemed nothing but a fairytale, and she could not help but wonder what she had done wrong, why else would she be so cruelly punished. She had been born to be a Queen and now even that seemed an unlikely reality. How would her new family treat her if Arthur was to die, she could not help but think King Henry was only so kind to her because of the huge dowry she had bought to his shores, and she was not blind to see that neither Queen Elizabeth nor Arthur's grandmother were particularly fond of her, they had wanted an English Queen, and Katherine was very un-English, young Prince Harry, was the only one (save Arthur), that she thought truly like her, perhaps they would marry her to him, if Arthur were to die, but no she couldn't think that way, her husband had to live, she could not lose him after she had only just found him.

" Please God, spare him," She whispered, her words Spanish (she still had not quite grasped the English language) her tears splattering on their bed sheets, " I need him, I love him please, take anything you want, but spare my husband."

" Katherine," She whipped her head up faster than she thought possible, at the sound of her husbands voice, as she looked at him, it was as if he had never been sick at all, it was a miracle, a blessing from God.

As she fell into her husbands arms, sobs escaping her lips, she thanked God for her had granted her wish, but she would not help but wonder at what price.

**A/N, so what did you all think? Is it worth continuing? Please leave a review, to let me know what you think. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: First of all I would like to thank everyone that favourted, reviewed or put this story on alert, especially to those who reviewed, I was really surprised and pleased by the number of people who seemed to enjoy the first chapter as I was not completely sure of it. **

**Like with An act of fate I do have a lot of this story planned out all ready, so hopefully I will be able to update this often. **

**As a side note for the purposes of this story I have decided to give Anne the 1501 birthdate, instead of the 1507 birthdate I like to give her, I have done that so that her and Henry are only ten years apart, al other ages will be as they were in history. **

**As usual I own nothing. I know its terribly upsetting. **

**Chapter two: The price.**

* * *

**April 4****th**** 1502 **

**Ludlow Castle, Wales **

_**Residence of the Prince and Princess of Wales **_

" Are you certain?" King Henry questioned gravely, looking at his personal doctor with a steely glare, just daring him to repeat his last sentence, Henry did not believe him not in the slightest there was no way that one illness on a child that had never been sick a day in his life, could have such an effect.

" Yes, Your Grace I'm afraid I am," Dry Boerio, said his voice shaking slightly under the enormity of his words, he was very afraid that the blame would be cast on his shoulders, but he had thought it better to be honest and truthful with his sovereign, better they know now, then years down the track, " It is very unlikely, that Prince Arthur will be able to sire a healthy child."

" But not impossible?" Queen Elizabeth questioned from her husbands side, she too did not quite believe what she was being told, Arthur had always been such a strong and healthy lad, how could one bout of sickness affect his whole life in such a way?

" No, not impossible," Dr Boerio assured, although personally he did not think it quite worth the risk, but in a Royal family little heirs were all that mattered. From the corner of his eye he could see the Prince and Princess of wales whispering to each other, their lips barley moving and their voices not audible to anyone else in the room. It had broke his heart to be the bearer of such tragic news to a such a young couple, the young Princess had wept when he had told them, but now with her husbands parents in the room she had all the dignity befitting her station. They both did.

" Thank you doctor, you may leave us," Henry said, waving the other man away, he wanted a few moments alone with his family. Truthfully he didn't know what to do with the information that had been presented to him.

" Oh Arthur," Elizabeth cried once they were alone, immediately she made her way over to her son taking his head in her hands, " It will be alright." She assured, and Henry thought her a fool for making such promises. They had lost two children already, little Elizabeth when she was hardly three and Edmund when he was just over one and yet they had no such odds placed against them.

" I am alright mother," Arthur responded evenly, he was to old for such coddling, especially in front of his wife, " I suppose Harry will be your Prince of wales now, Grandmother will be ever so pleased."

Three faces looked at Arthur in shock in response to his words, none of them expecting him to be so defeated. Henry could not help but think that his sons words were what many in the country would be expecting to happen, his wife and mother especially, but Henry just could not agree to it. Arthur was his Prince of Wales, he was the King England deserved, and by God Henry would assure he did until his dying breath. The doctor had never said it would be impossible for Arthur and Katherine to bear children he just said it would be unlikely, if it was God's will for young Harry to be king, then he would just have to wait until his brothers reign was over. Arthur would be King. it was his destiny.

" No," King Henry said firmly, " You will rule after me, and God willing you and Katherine will have many children, and if God see's it fit that you shant, then Harry will simply be your heir."

" So you do not intend for Harry to join the clergy then?" Elizabeth questioned, trying to keep her happiness in check, now was not the time for joy.

Henry made no move to answer his wifes question, for he thought the answer obvious. Harry would need a bride, and Henry just new that choosing a bride for his Duke of York would be that much harder then it had been for Arthur, as things always were for his youngest son, but he couldn't think of that now, He and Elizabeth (and young Harry too) were needed back at Westminster, he had many preparations to make for Margret's journey to Scotland, at least he knew for certain the fate of one of his children, a Queen and mother Margret would be, the other three, where the ones that worried him.

* * *

**Christmas, 1505**

_**Westminster Palace**_

As she looked in the mirror at her ever expanding form Katherine could not help but think how much her life had changed since that fateful April day four years past. She had thought herself to be cursed, for most of it, and how could she not with all the tragedies that had befallen her English family since she had arrived on their land. She had hardly believed it when the physician had told them that Arthur would not be able to have children, and she had been devastated to think that she may never carry a child in her womb nor hold an infant in her arms, every day she had prayed for a child to fill her empty womb and after four years he had finally granted her prayer.

Although Katherine knew she mustn't hope for too much, her mother in law was proof enough of that, having lost three children herself, not to mention she had almost died giving birth to Princess Catherine just two years ago (yet another curse Katherine had bought with her), Katherine had been in the room when the young infant had had her last breath, and she had held Elizabeth's hand as she had sobbed when she had found out it would be her last child.

Katherine had not told Arthur she was pregnant for at least two months after she herself had found out, she had been too scared that if she did she would wake up and it would all be a dream, he had wept when she had finally told him, and Katherine did not think she had ever seen the King and Queen so happy. She felt silly now forever having believed that doctor, she and Arthur would have a whole litter of children, and she just knew they would.

" You look beautiful sister," Princess Mary's voice said from next to her, the young girl was nine now and growing more beautiful each day, she was not Katherine's favorite of her husband's siblings, Katherine just did not know her well enough, but still she was a kind and gentle girl, if not a little frivolous and shallow.

" Thank you Mary," Katherine said smiling. She did look quite pleasing even if it was a vain thing to think. Her whole body it seemed was glowing and the crimson gown she was wearing, shaped her pregnant belly perfectly, her hair she wore in a Spanish hood, and she had a small crucifix necklace adorning her neck. Her dress was not nearly as extravagant or beautiful as the Queen's but Katherine thought that the way it should be, When she was Queen it would be her that wore the most extravagant and beautiful of everything, but for now she was content in simply being a Princess of Wales.

" Pregnancy does suit you well," Queen Elizabeth said from behind her daughter, and daughter in law. She still could not quite believe it, she had been shocked when the news had come to her, and even if she hated to admit it a little bit disappointed, she had it in her mind that Harry would be King one day, but oh she just couldn't think like that. Arthur would make a fine King, and Katherine she was sure would make a good Queen, the people of England already loved the young royal couple, Elizabeth just wished that her husband had already picked a bride for Harry, she feared that now with Katherine's pregnancy going so well, that Henry would go back to that silly notion of Harry joining the clergy, and that was something she just could not abide by.

" Thank you mother," Katherine said the words still tasting foreign in her mouth, no matter how hard they both tried and no matter how much they both wanted it, Katherine and Elizabeth had never truly been able to form a bond. Oh the Queen was never unkind to her, but she was never particularly warm either, she simply did what was expected of her she treated Katherine with all the graces expected of a mother in law, but never with the warmth and affection expected of a mother.

* * *

Henry could not help but laugh at the scene-taking place before him, young Harry with Mary on his feet, the two of them aimlessly trying to keep up with Katherine and Arthur beside them. It was not often that he showed any displays of emotion in public but as of late he was feeling quite jovial, everything was as it should be, Arthur and Katherine were married and expecting a child, Margret was Queen of Scotland and Harry and Mary, well he expected great things of them as well.

His wife too was well, better than he thought she would be, and Henry was glad for it, he did not care that they would have no more children, Elizabeth, Edmund, and most recently young Catherine, were great losses but his wife would have been an even greater one he still needed his Queen, and besides the Tudor dynasty was still strong, everything was well.

" I think I shall retire, " Katherine whispered in Arthur's ear, she was tired, being so heavy with child did not make for great amounts of dancing.

" Do you want me to come with you?" Arthur questioned, his eyes scanning her for any signs of discomfort. He was so worried for her and their unborn child's state; he hardly wanted to let his wife out of his site.

" No, Sweetheart, I am fine, stay enjoy the feast," Katherine responded with a smile, before dipping her knee slightly, as she walked out her hands proudly showcasing her stomach, she smiled at the courtiers bowing low around her all of them mumbling the same phrase 'your highness.'

As she entered her chamber, she smiles slightly at one of her ladies bowing before her, before a sharp pain filled her body, " Argh," immediately her hands went to her stomach in fear.

" My lady?" one of her ladies questioned, their voice worried, a hand coming across her shoulder, as Katherine took support on the table in the room.

" What is it?"

" Your Grace?"

Katherine knew what she would find as soon as she lifted her gown, but still she didn't want to believe it, as her ladies surrounded her all of them worriedly asking what was happening, Katherine felt something sticky going down her legs, when she pulled her hands back in her view she could only see red.

" Oh my God," she mumbled before her legs gave out and she fell to the floor, she heard the call of get the physician, but she could not take her eyes off of the blood covering her hand, the blood that she knew was her baby.

* * *

She wasn't dressed for visitors when he came, she didn't want any visitors. Katherine had demanded that the dress, and hood, even the crucifix be burnt as soon as it was stripped from her body she had no need to be reminded of it, of the baby or the miscarriage or any of it. Now she was dressed in her plainest shift, her hair messy and down, as she lay under her covers.

Maria, her most favored lady, had been beside her when he came rubbing soothing circles into her back, but it helped her naught she just felt numb, they didn't need to announce him, her rooms where so quiet that she had heard his footsteps, everyone one it seemed was grieving for their loss, the physicians said it resembled a male, the Prince who never was.

" I lost the baby," Katherine said, she refused to look at him; she didn't want to see the disappointment and sadness in her husbands eyes, such things which she had caused.

" Yes," Arthur said after some moments, truly he didn't know what to say to her, his grief was so great, he couldn't console himself how could he be expected to console her, especially when he was the reason she had lost the baby? He just wished she would look at him, since their marriage they had shared everything and now in the greatest moment of grief she would not even look at him, " They told me."

Still she said nothing, still she would not look at him, did she blame him? Arthur could not help but think that she must. " Katherine, please just look at me," She obeyed his wish without a second thought, and Arthur wished that she hadn't. The sight of her all but broke his heart again. Her beautiful face was tear streaked her eyes all but red, they had said she had cried for hours, refusing to believe that she had lost their child.

" I am so sorry," She sobbed and Arthur could do nothing more than go to her side and wrap her up in his arms as she cried, cried for their baby that never was.

" It is not your fault," Arthur said, the guilt slowly tearing him apart. What kind of a man was he that he could not even bear healthy children, what kind of a King would he be?

" We will have others," Katherine said, her Spanish accent coming through in her anguish, it was as if she was almost pleading with him to agree with her, and Arthur could do nothing else but, he would have told her anything to ease her pain.

" Of course we will sweetheart, boys and girls both."

* * *

**January 12****th**** 1506 **

**Westminster Place, **

_**King of England's Apartments**_

As Henry looked at the man before him he could not help but sigh deeply, his mind was not properly focused on the game of chess in front of him, but he appreciated the effort of Thomas Boleyn, one of his favorite courtiers, to keep his mind from the un-pleasantries that had taken place on Christmas.

Katherine had lost the child, they had all been stupid to think that she wouldn't he could see that now. They had put too much hope in it, all of them, he especially, he had thought his doctor a fool, that all their worrying about securing a match for Harry needless. But alas he had been the fool, and now the issue of the succession of his line was very much an issue again. He had much to think of now and he was growing old from it all.

" Do you have children Thomas" Henry questioned gruffly, as he moved a chess piece, he did not think he was winning the game.

" God has seen fit to grant me five children, although he also saw it fit to take two of them away," Thomas responded evenly, he did not quite understand where this conversation was going.

" He sees it fit to do that quite often doesn't he?" Henry said, thinking of the three children he had now lost. Thomas didn't know if the Kings words were truly for his ears, but he chose to respond as if they were.

" We were all sorry to hear of the Princess' miscarriage," Thomas said, hoping beyond hope that mentioning the event would not cause the King to grow angry.

" Hmmm," The king responded, " It seems the Duke of York needs a bride,"

Thomas looked at his King curiously still wondering why it was that Henry was bringing such a conversation to his ears, he was a simple diplomat and while he was rising in favor, these last few years, so much so that he had escorted Princess Margret to Scotland, but still the matter of a royal marriage was far beyond his experience.

" A delicate matter I'm sure," Thomas said not knowing what else to say.

" What of your own children Boleyn, have you marriages planned for them?"

" Mary my eldest is betrothed, but Anne and George are far too young for such things," Thomas answered smiling as he thought of his three children, Anne especially who was the light of his life, he expected great things from her, Mary may have been the beauty but Anne, Anne would make them their fortune.

Henry nodded in response, sometimes he wished he did not have to worry about such things, until his children were older, but that was not the way with Royal children.

" I wish to make you our French ambassador, Boleyn, seeing with how well you've been doing at the Low Countries, "

" Your Majesty, that is an honor I do not deserve," Thomas responded fighting back a smile, an ambassador at the French court was a much more reserved one then that in the Low Countries.

" Make inquires about Claude of France, she is Harry's age and some say she is quite a beauty," Henry said, Elizabeth and his mother would want an English bride for Harry, but he would look at his options in other nations before he settled on a decision, and besides, if King Louis did not have any more children, young Harry might have a chance of being King of France.

" As your majesty commands,"

" Tell me Thomas, will you miss the Low Countries, in know the Archduchess is fond of you,"

" A little your grace, Margret has always been kind to me, in fact she has invited my youngest daughter to be educated at her court." Thomas smiled proudly at the fact, Anne was only four and already she was being invited to study abroad.

" That is a great honor," Henry responded, he wondered what was so special about little Anne Boleyn that Margret of Austria would want her at her court, his ambassadors daughter would be receiving an education befitting a Princess.

" Yes, Anne is very excited, although she must wait a few years,"

" I would very much like to meet her Thomas, is she at court with you and Lady Elizabeth?"

Thomas was almost shocked into a silence, a muttered " Yes, Your Grace' being all he could manage. Why on earth would King Henry want to meet his daughter?

" Then shall we go pay her a visit?"

* * *

The walk to his ambassadors rooms were long, Henry still didn't know exactly why he wanted to meet Thomas Boleyn's four year old daughter so much, it was as if his body and his mouth had a mind of their own. When they got to the Boleyn chambers, Henry could see that the other man was slightly on edge, probably worrying that his rooms, nor his wife and children where in anyway prepared for a Royal visit.

" Your Majesty, " a startled Elizabeth Boleyn all but screeched falling to her knees, as soon as she laid eyes on the King. She had always been a beauty and a Howard girl at that; her match with Thomas Boleyn had been a love match, very unlike Henry's own marriage. He had always been fond of her, if he was a lustful man he probably would have made her his mistress, but he was not and he knew she was too in love with her husband and too much of an honorable woman to ever consent to that anyway.

" Lady Elizabeth," Henry said bowing his head in acknowledgement, next to her were two little girls making their own curtseys one far more graceful then the other.

" And who might these little ones be?" Henry asked standing before them, as both girls rose he could not help but notice the difference between them.

The oldest girl, Mary, couldn't have been any older than six, her dress was pale blue and plain, her blonde hair down by her sides, and she had pretty blue eyes. She would no doubt grow into a beauty; she was her mother's image, a Howard girl.

The younger one, the one his attention was immediately drawn too wore a dark red dress, her hair was as dark as her sisters was blonde, and when she looked at him, her eyes, dark and soulful all but pulled him in, _dark hooks for the soul_, she was not a conventional English beauty but Henry could not help but think that she was beautiful even at four years of age she was interesting to look at.

" That's Mary, and I'm Anne Boleyn," The little girl spoke boldly as if she were the oldest and the question had been directed at her. Her voice was clear and firm, " and that's George," She added as if in an afterthought pointing at the crib Henry just noticed was in the room.

" It's very nice to meet you Anne and Mary Boleyn," Henry said using the voice he would use when addressing his own children, a voice he did not use too often (even with his own children). Anne smiled widely at him in response to his words, and Henry found himself enchanted by this tiny four year old, she reminded him of his Margret, who he missed ever so greatly.

" Tell me Anne Boleyn," He said loudly so that all in the room could hear him, " how would you like to be the Duchess of York?" he heard the girls mother's 'oh my lord' and he saw Thomas Boleyn fall to his knees, but King Henry's attention was solely on Anne.

If anyone ever asked him why he had done it, and oh he was sure that they would (Elizabeth and his mother especially would be most curious), Henry would not know how to answer them, he himself didn't know what had come over him, or why he found himself so enchanted by a four year old girl, with no titles or wealth, there was just something about this girl, something he could not quite explain, and he was determined that she was the right choice for Harry, no matter what anyone said or thought about it.

When she responded to his question, her dark eyes looking right into his without a fear in the world, her voice far beyond her years he just knew he had made the right decision.

" No, I want to be the Queen,"

King Henry could do nothing but stare at the girl, _perhaps one day she will be._

* * *

" What were you thinking?" Elizabeth raged, her face matching the color of her hair. She was absolutely furious at her husband, it was not often that they fought, but now Elizabeth could think of nothing else to do but rage and scream at the man before her.

She was more than used to Henry's cold and distant nature, she had endured decades of it, she had even grown used to his ways of parenting, his insistence that their children live separately from them (or from Elizabeth to be more exact), but this, not even being consulted about her own child's marriage this was something new entirely. At least with Arthur, he had consulted her asked her of her opinions, and though she had not been thrilled with the match, she had saw the reasoning behind it, she saw no reasoning behind this.

" I thought you wanted an English bride for Harry," Henry said, his voice never rising to meet his wife's, he had known she would be displeased.

" Yes, to a girl of good breeding,"

" A girl of your choosing you mean?"

" Henry, her father has no title, her family are upstarts, and you want to make her the future Duchess of York, the Queen of England possibly?" Elizabeth ranted trying with everything she had to make her husband see sense.

" She is a Howard on her mothers side, the granddaughter of the Duke of Norfolk" Henry argued, he knew Elizabeth would never see this his way, but Henry had made his decision and he did not plan on changing it, " Maybe when you meet the girl you will understand sweetheart, you grew fond of Katherine."

" Katherine is an Infata of Spain, she has more royal blood than either of us can make a claim to, and this Anne Boleyn is nothing more than a daughter to an ambassador a man who is not even a knight!" Elizabeth raged, fighting the urge to throw something at her husband's head. Poor Harry would think himself the laughing stock of all Europe having to marry some common girl while his brother married a daughter of Spain. She had wanted an English match, Elizabeth would not deny that, but she also wanted a girl of some standing and nobility someone worthy to call herself the Duchess of York. She would never forgive Henry for this, Harry too she knew would be furious.

" That is enough Elizabeth, " Henry said his voice raising only slightly, he had had enough of his wife's raging, " I have made my decision, the papers will be drawn up and signed tomorrow so you best get used to it."

" As you wish Your Majesty," Elizabeth ground out between clenched teeth, as she bowed low before her husband, it was something she never did in private, but the curtsey she gave could not in any way be seen as one of obedience and respect. She slammed the door as she departed the chambers not at all caring that it was most childish.

" Does she forget that her own mother was nothing but a commoner," Henry had all but forgotten his mothers presence in the room, she had been ever so silent, a trait that she did not often posses.

She was aging now, his dear mother, more in appearance then in mind, but still she was no longer the young woman she had once been, the young mother he remembered telling him he would one day be King every chance she got. And he was no longer a young man either, the thought kept him up most nights, now more than ever. Marrying Elizabeth was suppose to be his way of ending civil war in the country, of uniting York and Lancaster, yet now he faced the prospect of leaving behind a line that was unsecured, he could not allow that to happen. If Katherine and Arthur did not produce a living heir (a prospect that was not without merit) the crown would fall to young Harry, and Henry could not allow that to happen without first securing a match for his youngest son, Anne Boleyn was his way of doing that.

" She wants nothing but the best for her son," Henry responded evenly, and he knew that was the real reason behind Elizabeth's dislike of not just his choice of bride for Harry but for Arthur as well, no woman would ever be good enough for her sons, was that not the way for all mothers.

" What makes you so sure that this Boleyn girl is the right choice for Harry?" Margret questioned eyeing her son with curiosity, she had been expecting him to choose Claude of France for Harry, she had not expected her son to choose someone of English birth (as much as she wanted him to) especially not someone who was so common, with no name or title to speak of, that was not Henry's way.

" I don't know," Henry replied truthfully, " but I won't change my mind."

Margret sighed deeply at her sons answer, she was in two minds about this whole situation. She had influence over her son, more so than his York Queen could ever make claim too, yet she didn't know whether or not to use that influence now. Margret had no illusions that if she wanted to she could make Henry forget about Anne Boleyn and his promise to one day make her the Duchess of York, she could sway him mind to someone of better standing, but then perhaps her son was right, perhaps this girl was the best choice for Harry, Henry was a smart man he would not make such decisions lightly. Yet he had, a voice in her head reminded her, he had given neither herself nor Elizabeth a reason for his choosing of the girl, he had simply said it he just knew it was the right decision to make. Margret had once had a feeling like that, she had once been called crazy and delusional, no one believed her when she said her son would one day be King. She had been right maybe just maybe Henry was too.

" So be it," Margret responded her voice firm; she would help see it through.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hehe so am I good at updating or what !**

**I just want to say a huge massive thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourated or put the story on alert, it means the world to me, and I am truly astounded at the amount of support this story is receiving. A special thank you to my anonymous reviewers as well.**

**To the annonoymous reviewer who asked about Edmund Tudor and why I didn't allow him to live, I am sorry I killed him off, it just didn't fit with the plot of my story to have him included in it.**

**I will probably write another one or two chapters until the death of Henry VII, I hope that doesn't disappoint anyone. Anyway on with the story, I hope you all enjoy.**

**Yes, yes I own nothing.**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

January 13th 1506

Westminster Palace

The ceremony for the betrothal of Harry Duke of York to the Lady Anne Boleyn was done mostly in a private way, and Queen Elizabeth was glad for it, she didn't want her young son to be made the laughing stock of the entire court.

The Boleyn's were of course present, Elizabeth of course knew, Lady Boleyn well, she had known her for many years, being the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk she had been in Elizabeth's service for many years. Elizabeth had always been fond of her. Her husband, Thomas, Elizabeth hardly knew other than what Henry had told her of him, and his role as an ambassador to the low countries Queen Elizabeth knew nothing of him. She had yet to be introduced to the young girl that would one day be the bride of her Harry.

The young girl was not nearly as beautiful as her older sister, but Elizabeth thought she was pretty enough. She was dressed Elizabeth was sure in her finest clothes, a fetching dark blue gown, with her long dark locks hanging in loose curls, around her neck she wore a pearl necklace a golden 'B' hanging from it proudly. Anne, had all the graces to be expected of her she made her curtsey's carefully, her words firm, clear and respectful as she addressed them, Elizabeth noticed a little blush spread over her cheeks when she looked at Harry. Elizabeth could tell she was a charming child, she could see why Henry had been so enchanted by her, but she still did not believe her to be a good enough match for Harry, yet her husband and now mother-in-law seemed determined to make it work.

Harry had raged when she told him. He had cried and screamed and yelled about how it wasn't fair, she had done her best to calm him down, to tell him that his father was only doing what he thought best (even if she couldn't understand how), and that she was sure the two of them would have a happy union. Harry, at almost 15 years of age was having none of her coddling. She knew well enough that he thought the match beneath him, Harry had always been a proud boy, he had watched his older brother be favored over him his whole life, he had watched as Arthur had married an Infata of Spain (Elizabeth knew without a doubt that young Harry fancied Katherine), and yet he was forced to marry a girl ten years beneath him, without a title or fortune to speak of. Elizabeth just hoped that he stayed behaved throughout this whole process.

Thomas Savage, the Archbishop of York led the proceedings, it was a simple enough ceremony the signing of a piece of paper but it seemed to Elizabeth to be going for a lifetime.

Her husband and mother in law looked very pleased with themselves, Margret had insisted on being present, she wanted to meet the girl see what all the fuss was about. Elizabeth had placed a smile on her face, as was expected of her as a Queen, but young Harry could not hide his displeasure, she just hoped her husband and the Boleyn's hadn't noticed.

It was agreed upon by both parties that the marriage would take place when Anne had reached the age of fifteen, before that the young girl would be educated as befitting a Princess, in the household of Margret of Austria, it was a greater education then either of Elizabeth's daughter's could make a claim too, the girl must have been intelligent.

When the papers were finally signed, Elizabeth could not help but sigh slightly in relief even though she knew it was not completely over yet, Harry and Anne had to be introduced, and this was the part she was dreading most. Henry had already told their youngest son that he was to be nothing but pleasant to the young girl, Elizabeth just hoped that Harry kept his end of the bargain.

" Your Grace," Anne said as soon as Harry was in front of her. He was very handsome, she could not help but think of how lucky she was, her lady mother had told her at least a hundred times the night before. She was going to be the Duchess of York one day, the third most important lady in all of Europe, one day, her father had said she might even be Queen, but of course she wasn't allowed to say that to anyone.

" Lady Anne," Harry said, inclining his head only slightly. He could not help but think of how unlucky he was. Why did his father hate him so much and love Arthur so greatly? Arthur got to marry Katherine, a beautiful royal lady, and Harry was stuck with this Anne Boleyn, and while Harry supposed she wasn't ugly to look at (her eye's especially were very nice) she was nothing more than a toddler, younger even than Mary. Why couldn't his father had picked someone else, someone like Lady Popincourt Mary's French tutor who was ever so beautiful and funny, or even a Howard girl, there were so many of them, Harry even thought that Claude of France would be better than this Boleyn girl, at least if he married her he could have had a chance of being the King of France.

" I have a present for your highness, would you like to see it " Anne said, just as her parents had instructed her to do, she noticed that as soon as she made mention of presents that the Duke smiled.

As Harry looked at his mother, she gave him a pointed look and he knew he had to act with all the dignity befitting his station, if not he would never hear the end of it from his father, with a sigh he decided the best way to deal with the child in front of him, would be to treat her how he treated Mary when she was younger.

" I love presents, " Harry responded, and he was not lying when he said that, he was a little more than surprised when the young girl grabbed him by the hand and all but dragged him to the window over looking the courtyard.

" There, look," She said pointing to a beautiful chestnut horse, Harry was more than pleased, " Do you like him?"

" Yes, thank you lady Anne, " taking her hand in his he kissed it chastely; neither his parents nor grandmother would be able to reprimand him. He had been nothing but a gentleman to the young girl; he had done more than what could be expected.

* * *

Rooms of the Prince and Princess of Wales

" Poor Harry," Arthur could not help but laugh as he thought of his brother's antics in trying to avoid his betrothed that evening. Knowing his brother as well as he did, Arthur had just known that Harry had wanted to spend the night dancing with as many pretty ladies as he could, Anne Boleyn had had other thoughts on her mind, the young girl had been allowed to spend the evening with the 'adults', and she had taken the most of the opportunity. Harry would never have refused her with their father present, and as such he had been forced to spend most of the evening in the company of a four year old.

" He did not seem too pleased," Katherine, added a serious expression on her face. She had been most displeased when she had heard of the plans for Harry's marriage, more so then he would have thought, and he could not quite understand why.

" Nor do you sweetheart," Arthur added, his tone questioning.

" She is hardly worthy of such a title," Katherine said, thinking of the little common girl who would one day be the Duchess of York. The young girl had been polite and graceful in her own way when she had been introduced to them, she had done everything to be expected of her, but Katherine could not find it within herself to warm up to this Anne Boleyn, " I don't know what your father could have been thinking."

" He seems completely enchanted by the girl," Arthur explained, he too was confused by the whole situation, he had expected a French alliance, or at least a noble lady, yet he didn't really mind the girl seemed sweet and charming enough, he had no problem with the match.

" As does your grandmother," Katherine added bitterly. It was no secret that the King's mother hated Katherine and Katherine herself held no affection for the woman, she knew her husband and his siblings adored the woman, but Katherine, like her mother in law, could not find it within herself to even try. She didn't see the point Margret Beaufort was a stubborn woman, she had decided she hated Katherine before she had even met or laid eye's on her, that would never change, and yet Anne Boleyn, a common girl of only four was favored, Katherine just did not think it fair. She had even heard that the woman wanted to take Anne into her household before she departed for the Netherlands, yet Katherine an Infata of Spain, the daughter of Isabella and Ferdinand had never even been invited to a meal.

Arthur did not know how to respond to his wife's remark, he knew she must feel slighted, but he had know idea of how to ease her troubles, and he did not think that her only reason for disliking the girl was because of her common status, after five years of marriage he knew there was more to it then that.

" My niece Eleanor would have been a far better choice, " Katherine continued firmly, " even a French match would have been better."

" Katherine, you mustn't say such things," Arthur stated, his voice firm but not unkind, he would not have his wife being so irrational and unkind to an innocent child, she had no reason to hate Anne, " this girl will be our sister one day, and I will not have you treating her unkindly for no reason."

He had not intended to make her cry, and as always the sight of her in distress broke his heart, he took his hand in hers and rubbed soothing motions with his thumb, but that only seemed to make her more upset. He had no idea why she was acting in such a way.

" Oh Arthur, I am sorry," She sobbed, burying her head in the crook of his neck.

" Katherine, sweetheart, what is the matter, truly why has this got you so upset?"

" Don't you see," She said looking his squarely in the eyes, " your father has only done this because he does not believe we will have children, he intends for Harry to be your successor and Anne to be mine."

He could not find it within himself to deny her thoughts, for he knew in a way that they were true. His father had always wanted Harry to join the clergy, but that couldn't happen now, even Arthur knew that. Katherine had yet to find herself with child since her miscarriage, and his father had to do what he thought best to ensure the prosperity of his line, and that meant marrying Harry off. Katherine did not see it that way however, she saw it as an insult that a girl without title or wealth might be the one to bear a son for the Tudor line, and Arthur knew there was nothing he could say to ease her worries, so he just held her, as he had done so many times over the last five years.

* * *

Boleyn Family Rooms

" Are you sure about this Thomas?" Elizabeth questioned her tone worried and anxious. She had put on a happy face, she had smiled and laughed and been exactly the way she was expected to be, but now in the comfort and safety of her own rooms, she felt the need to express her worries to her husband.

" Sure about what Elizabeth?" Thomas responded taking a large gulp of wine, Elizabeth did not think she had ever seen her husband so happy, not even when George was born did she think he had been this pleased with himself. Their daughter was going to be the Duchess of York, why should he not be happy.

" You know what Thomas, neither the Queen nor the prince seemed pleased by the betrothal," Oh they had acted happy, Prince Harry had been charming and sweet, but she had seen it in his eyes he had thought Anne beneath him, and Elizabeth could not help but think such thoughts would be hard for him to ever overcome she worried that he would never see her daughter in any other light. She had known the Queen for years, she had been both friend and confidant to her, and so she knew when Elizabeth was putting on a façade. The Queen obviously thought Anne far below her son, and Elizabeth worried for that too, she knew Queen Elizabeth had also not been fond of the Princess of Wales at first, and she was royalty, Elizabeth could not help but worry how she would view Anne who was a common born, even if she was a granddaughter of the Duke of Norfolk.

" That matters not," Thomas assured dismissing his wife's worried with a wave of his hand, " The King is set on the match as is his mother, as long as Henry wants the match it will go ahead."

" What if he gets a better offer? What if King Louis offers his daughter, do you really think the King would deny his son the chance to be the King of France? "

" That will never happen Elizabeth, " Thomas said once again dismissing his wife's worries, " He is enchanted by Anne."

Elizabeth sighed in frustration at her husbands carefree attitude, she understood that he was pleased, what man wouldn't be, Anne was the second daughter, the less pretty one, it was a shock to them all that the King would have picked her to be a bride for his youngest son. While she had been thrilled originally, those feelings of elation had quickly disappeared when she had observed the reactions of the royal family.

It was not just the Queen and prince that seemed displeased, The princess of wales too did not seem overly impressed, she had looked down on the young girl and hardly spent a minute conversing with her, at least Princess Mary had seemed taken by Anne, that was something, the Prince of Wales too did not seem to displeased, but Elizabeth could not help but wonder how long it would be before his wife changed his mind.

"Yes, but Anne will need more than just the King on her side, especially if something were to happen to him before the marriage took place," Elizabeth responded, letting her husband in on her biggest fear. If King Henry were to pass (god forbid) before the marriage between Anne and the Duke of York took place, Elizabeth would not be surprised if the betrothal was made void. Prince Arthur, as the King, would easily be able to find a different match for his brother, especially if his mother, wife and of course brother were in his ear, whispering that there were better options.

Elizabeth didn't even want to think of what would happen to her daughter then. Anne was a bright girl, she knew exactly what was happening, Elizabeth knew her young daughter already had her heart set on the handsome duke of York, and she would be heartbroken if all their plans fell through.

" Then we will just have to make sure that they have no reason to choose another bride, we will have to make sure she is as pleasing and charming and well educated as any foreign princess or noble lady."

Elizabeth simply nodded at her husbands words, she didn't know what else to do, he would never see it the way she did, he thought of only himself and his name, while Elizabeth was thinking of her daughter and her future. For all their sakes Prince Harry would have to learn to love Anne.

* * *

January 20th 1506

Westminster

Rooms of the Duke of York

" I still cant believe it," Harry huffed looking at his best friend seated across from him, he huffed even more when he noticed the smirk present on Charles Brandon's face.

" Your not still complaining about that are you Harry?" Charles responded his smirk never leaving his face. Harry could not help but think that none of his other companions would ever be so bold, but with Charles he didn't mind, he was more of a brother to Harry then Arthur had ever been.

" It's alright for you to say," Harry bit back his frustration finally coming through, " Your not the one betrothed to a toddler."

" She won't be a toddler forever," Charles reasoned, although he knew it mattered not what he said, Harry was determined to dislike the match his father had made for him, there was no talking him around. Both Prince Arthur and the Queen had already tried; Charles knew he had no hope.

" Yes, but she will always be common." Harry retorted, he knew he was being petulant and childish, but he didn't care, neither his mother nor father was present. If he were being truthful the Lady Anne was not all bad, she was smart for her age, and she already dressed fashionably but she was not what he wanted, maybe one day she would be, maybe one day he would see what his father was making such a big fuss about, but Harry doubted it.

" You don't seem to mind that Lady Popincourt it so common," Charles teased, trying not to feel to slighted by his friend's earlier comment, sometimes Charles thought that Harry forgot that he too was common, the only reason he had been given an education befitting a prince was because his father had died protecting the King, if not for that Charles doubted very much that King Henry would have taken such a liking to him, and allowed him to be raised alongside his own children.

" Yes well, Jane is not a child is she?" Harry replied with a smirk, he had grown very fond of his sister's French tutor and he believed that she felt the same way towards him.

" Oh it's Jane now is it?" Charles laughed, he did not doubt that Harry would make Lady Popincourt his mistress in time, his friend would have to be discreet in such dealings however, King Henry would not be happy to hear his youngest had such a way with the ladies of court, but the King couldn't exactly expect Harry to go celibate while he waited for his betrothed to reach a marryable age, he was a young man after all, Charles knew all too well how much temptation a beautiful woman had, especially one as fair and lovely as Jane Popincourt.

Harry sighed in response to his friends words, his mind once again falling to his recent betrothal, he wondered if he would ever feel at peace with it, not for the first time in his life he cursed his fortunes as the second born son, such a lowly match would never have been suggested for his brother, Oh no Arthur always had to have the best of every situation, while Harry was left with whatever remained.

* * *

1st of February 1506

Holyrood Palace, Scotland

Queen Margret's apartments.

Margret could not help but feel shocked by the contents of the letter laid out before her. It was from her father, he had taken to sending her letters every month since she had departed from England, usually the letters left her only with feelings of nostalgia and longing for her family and England, his latest letter left her feeling shocked and worried for the state of her family. Her father had betrothed Harry to a common girl, for no other reason than taking a liking to her, it was very unlike her father to act in such a way, he had always been cautious in diplomatic matters, she had expected a French match for Harry, she had not expected this.

She knew her father worried for his succession, Arthur and Katherine remained childless, Harry needed a bride she just could not help but wonder if all the stress had gone to his head, she would write to her mother and see what she thought about the whole situation.

She could not bring such worries to her husband, he firmly believed that her mind and efforts should remain on Scottish sole, and while she loved James and her new home dearly, she could not help but think of England and the family she was raised in, rather than the one she married into. She had been in Scotland for three years now and still she felt an outsider she knew that was how Katherine must have felt in England, she felt guilty that she had not been kinder and more welcoming to her sister in law, she had been jealous of Katherine for taking away her brothers affection, and for making Margret less important in the eyes of the country. She had been childish she saw that now, her and Katherine had a lot more in common than Margret had ever realised. She too had yet to present a child to the royal nursery.

James had yet to cast any blame on her shoulders being that they were still both young, Margret was only seventeen but still she couldn't help but feel stressed. While James had remained completely devoted to her since their marriage, not once taking a mistress, no one could deny his fertility, he had eight illegitimate children and Margret feared that if she did not show herself as being capable of bearing children soon, that she would be set aside, especially now that her father had chosen not to marry Harry to Claude of France. She did not doubt her husband's love for her, she doubted the intentions of the men around him, she knew that some already called her baron.

Margret knew that she could not allow such negativity to cause a strain between herself and her husband, she knew what it was to be a Queen, her mother and grandmothers had made sure of that, she was a beautiful woman, and she was charming and clever, she would not allow anyone to make her think less of herself, James was her husband and she was his Queen she would make sure it stayed that way, no matter what it cost her.

* * *

12th of February

Eltham Palace

Rooms of the Princess Mary

At ten years old Mary Tudor knew she was beautiful, everyone told her so, they said she was as beautiful as her grandmother Elizabeth Woodville had been in her youth. Mary had heard that people referred to her as one of the most beautiful princess' in all of Europe, even more so than her sister in law, and much more than Margret. She had beautiful red hair and a pale complexion; she was tall for her age and always dressed very fashionably, yet still it never seemed to be enough.

Harry and her mother loved her dearly she knew that, but Arthur, who was always at Ludlow now no longer had time for her, and her father and grandmother always compared her to her sister Margret, and now she had this Anne Boleyn to content with as well, it just wasn't fair. Really though that wasn't what was truly bothering her, her mind as always was on **him.**

Mary had a secret, and it was a secret no one could ever know. She was in love, she knew people would tell her that she was being silly, and that young girls at ten years of age did not know what love was, but Mary did she knew she was in love with Charles Brandon, her brothers best friend, the only problem was he hardly knew she existed, he just thought her a silly little girl, and Mary had seen the way he had looked at Katherine's ladies while they were at court. She was one of the most eligible and desirable princess in all of Europe, her father was in talks to marry her to Charles of Castile, yet that was not enough for Charles Brandon, and knowing that just made her want to cry, no matter how much her grandmother would scold her for it.

She was a Princess of England, and a beautiful one at that, one day Charles Brandon would see that, she would make sure of it.

* * *

14th of February 1506

Westminster Palace

The Rooms of Margret Beaufort, the King's mother.

Anne sat stoically in her chair, graceful and elegant just as her mother had told her to be. She was dressed in a new gown (she had many of them now), dark green with golden thread and her mother had put her hair into a braid that morning she looked a little princess her mother had said, and Anne just hoped that the King's mother felt the same way.

The woman seated across from her was intimidating, Anne did not think she had ever seen her look anything but stern, but Anne kept her smile firmly in place, just as her parents had instructed her to do.

" Tell me Lady Anne, how do you find Prince Henry?" Margret questioned, her eyes locking with the child in front of her, Her son had been right about one thing, the little girls eyes were enchanting.

" His highness is a good and godly prince, I look forward to the day we are to be married," Anne replied her words careful and deliberate, she was a bright child, she knew she had to act as graceful and dignified as she could.

Margret wanted to laugh at the child's response it was quite clearly a well rehearsed answer, one she had probably practiced with her parents a hundred times at least, but Margret didn't mind, the girl was only four, she could not expect to have an adult conversation with the girl, still though Margret wanted to learn as much as she could about the child, she wanted to make sure they were making the right choice with her that she was the right fit for Harry.

" Now Anne, you are to be the Duchess of York one day I hope you understand that with such a title comes a great amount of responsibility."

" Yes my lady," Anne replied nodding her head dutifully, she was excited about the prospect of being such an important person, she had even heard people whisper that if the princess of wales didn't have a child that Anne through her marriage to the Duke of York may one day be Queen of England, but of course she could say none of this to any member of the Royal family.

" As such, " Margret continued as if Anne had never responded, " I would like for you to come to my rooms once a week until you depart for the Netherlands, so that I may teach you what is to be expected of you." She had already informed her son and the Boleyn's of her idea, both had been thrilled at the prospect, she had to put her influence on the girl, so that she didn't end up like Elizabeth or Katherine.

" You honor me madam," Anne replied, and Margret could not help but think that she seemed older than her four years, it was better that way, Harry would need a girl of intelligence, one who would not bore him, one who would be on a similar intellect as him, she hoped to foster a love of learning in the girl, she was already a bright child, and under Margret's tutelage the girl would no doubt thrive.

Yes she thought, smiling at the girl for the first time, this Anne Boleyn would do.

* * *

**A/N: So what did you all think? Did you enjoy the inclusion of the Tudor sisters? Please leave a review to let me know your thoughts.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Ok so here's the next chapter, it was a little difficult to write, I'm sorry if it was a little too Anne focused, but this is an important period in her life, she experiences some major changes and breakthroughs in this chapter, that will go a long way in her becoming the Anne we all know and love. **

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourted or alerted the story it means the world to me. Thank you also to my anonymous reviewers. **

**Anyway I own nothing, nothing is mine, but I hope you all enjoy it **

* * *

**January 25th 1507**

**Richmond Palace**

" Sir Thomas Boleyn, " John Moreton's voice all but echoed throughout the thrown room of Richmond Palace, King Henry could not help but smile at the man knelt before him, " You are by order and permission of His Majesty, King Henry, today created Lord Rochford."

Henry could not help but think that Thomas Boleyn looked a little smug, and Henry did not blame the man for it, ever since the betrothel between Harry and young Anne had been agreed upon, there had been whispers (quite loud ones) about the suitableness of a woman of no social standing, from a family with no name or fortune for the Duke of York, even as the granddaughter of the Duke of Norfolk, Anne was thought by many, his wife and son included, to be to far beneath Harry. Henry just hoped that this small gesture appeased them somewhat.

It was not a grand title, he was to be a Viscount, a step up from a knight (of which the man had become the previous year), Henry was not one to give titles away for naught, a dukedom would have kept the mummers quite Henry knew but he held no desire to do so, he was not going to give Thomas Boleyn that much power, simply because he was fond of the man's daughter no matter how much he liked and enjoyed his ambassadors presence, such titles had to be earned, perhaps when Anne gave them all a healthy living boy Henry would think about it, until then Lord Rochford would do.

Elizabeth was seated next to him a grim expression on her face lovely face, she wore her long hair behind a gable hood, her dress was a deep brown cut modestly and adorned with a vast array of jewels, sometimes Henry wondered whether she aged at all. He was glad that Elizabeth had grown somewhat fond of little Anne, she still did not approve of the match but she didn't hate the girl as he had once feared she would, he could not help but ponder the reason why, and he knew without a doubt that it had something to do with his mother, and the competition that was always present between them.

While Thomas Boleyn had been at the French court for much of the past year, his wife and three children had stayed in England, Anne had stayed at court while her mother and two siblings had journeyed to Kent, his mother had wished it and Elizabeth Boleyn had had little choice but to obey. For his wife that had proved to be somewhat of a problem, he knew it pained her, to have her own children so far away at Eltham and Ludlow, while young Anne had been permitted to stay at court but his mother wanted to educate the girl, to make her suitable for Harry and her future position no matter her family name, and Henry had seen the reasoning for such a course. It had meant Elizabeth had not been able to avoid the child, as she had Katherine in the beginning, and as she saw her mother-in-law and future daughter in-law bonding Henry knew she had worried, as Harry's mother she wanted to make sure that she had a certain level of control over his life, and that meant she would have to form a sort of relationship between herself and the girl, and so she had of late taken to having lunch with Anne, doing her best no doubt to ensure that the girl favored her over her betrothed's grandmother. Henry had done nothing to put a stop to the game that was being played, he felt no need to, the girl would be the better for it. Still he could not help but think his wife was fighting a losing battle, she may not ever been mean or harsh to the girl, but she was never particularly warm to the girl, whereas his mother had taken to treating young Anne as if she were one of his Granddaughters, he knew that like himself, little Anne reminded her of their Margret.

Anne was present at the ceremony, as was her mother, Lady Rochford now, the other two Boleyn children were no doubt with their governess, children were not much welcomed at court while his own were not present, Anne was the only exception to that rule, and had it not been for his mother's instance that she remain with them, he would have no doubt had her returned to Hever the year before. She was turning into a fine young creature, the girl would be six in June and already she looked and acted far beyond her years, not once had he regretted his decision, the girl would be leaving for the Low Countries the following year, Harry had already been told that he would write to her once a month. His youngest son was still not overly thrilled with his bride to be, but Henry thought that would change in time, Elizabeth and himself had never been fond of each other in their early years, she had all but refused to the marriage when it was first agreed upon, she had thought him beneath her, not unlike their son, the York blood had always been strongest in Harry.

When the ceremony was over with, Henry motioned for the man before him to rise, " My Lord," He said simply.

" Majesty," Boleyn responded, the smug expression still firmly planted upon his face. With a nod of his head, Henry stood from his throne his hand immediately finding his wife's as they left the room hand in hand, a chorus of "Your Majesties," following them all the way to his private chambers.

" You look grim my love," Henry said softly, once they were away from prying ears, the doors to his chambers shut firmly.

" Was that really necessary?" Her voice was just as soft as his own, but unlike his own it held a note of anger.

" You were among the many the claimed Anne was too common for Harry," Henry reasoned, his voice calm but firm.

" Yes, but that didn't seem to bother you before why does it now?" Elizabeth countered her voice rising only slightly, he had always been better at hiding his emotions, she was too much like her mother, too proud and stubborn, " The man has done nothing to deserve such a title, yet you give it to him so freely with no need other than to make his daughter appear less common."

" Do you forget how much favor the Woodville's gained from your parents marriage?" Henry questioned his voice rising just as his own had. He would not have her questioning everything he did.

" That was different," Elizabeth, said her chin rising ever so slightly.

" How so? Your mother was common born, how is it any different other than it being your family instead of the Boleyn's?"

" My mother was the Queen of England, an anointed Queen, she needed powerful allies around her." Her voice quivered slightly as she spoke and Henry knew without a doubt that she was struggling to convince herself of her own words and claims, she knew he had a point, she would just not admit it.

" And Anne will be the Duchess of York, the Queen of England possibly, she too will need powerful allies around her." His voice was not angry or firm, he was not in the mood to fight with her, he thought it would be best to change the subject, he was sick of having the same argument with her, " Have you heard from Margret?"

Immediately his wife's face softened, their eldest daughter was currently heavy with her first child; they had both been waiting nervously for any news from their daughter.

* * *

**21st of February 1507**

**Holyrood Palace, Scotland**

Margret's screams were loud and horse, she felt as if she had been in labor for days, she knew it had not yet even been three hours, but still time it seemed had all but stilled.

Her midwife had claimed as soon as her labor pains began and her water broke, that the birth would be short and easy, Margret wanted to all but strangle the older woman for her deceitfulness, while the labor was not exactly long, it had most certainly not been easy.

" I can see the head now Your Majesty," The midwife said, and Margret felt her body relax at the words, it would not be long now.

She felt as if she had waited an age for this moment, for a child to be presented to her, a living breathing mixture of her and James. When she had first told him she was pregnant she had thought he might cry, she had certainly enjoyed the look on his councilmen's face as her bump grew larger and larger each month.

" One more push my lady," The midwife encouraged, taking a deep breath Margret took the hold of her ladies hands on either side of her, and using all her might, she pushed her child into the world.

The babe did not start wailing until given a firm slap on the buttocks, and even when it did the cry's were small and almost quiet, Margret could not help but think of her elder brother, her mother often said that as an infant Arthur hardly cried.

Margret looked expectantly at the midwife, her child now bundled up in the other woman's arms in a thick blanket.

" Your Majesty has given birth to a very healthy baby boy," The midwife said smiling widely as she handed the child into Margret's waiting arms.

He was a small little thing, but Margret thought he was very handsome, the very image of his father.

It didn't take James long to come to her rooms, once she and the child were both settled he came bounding in, clearly more than pleased. The issue of succession had been plaguing him of late; this would put an end to that.

" My love, come and meet our son," Margret said smiling widely, she was surprisingly alert, she hardly felt tired at all, perhaps it was simply the excitement of it all, James bounded over to her as if his life depended upon it, the smile never once leaving his face.

" I don't know how I can possibly thank you for this My love," James said as if in awe, Margret knew he had experienced this countless times before, but this was his first legitimate child, she knew he had been looking forward to this day since their wedding day, " Have you thought of a name for him?"

In the back of her mind she had always thought it would be nice to name her first son Arthur or even Henry, but she knew within he heart that that couldn't happen, her husbands family would always have to be honored before her own.

" He will be James of course," Margret responded, her son was the image of his father, " He is the image of you, no other name would do."

" James it is then my sweet," James replied his voice still cheerful, " we will have to think of a nickname however."

James Stuart, Duke of Rothesay, the future King of Scotland, yes Margret thought smiling to herself, she had delivered an heir, a bony Prince, a future King.

* * *

**March 1st 1507**

**Hever, Kent**

**Boleyn Family Residence**

As Anne walked into her childhood home, she felt none of the comforts she usually associated with it. The halls, the walls, the very essence of the castle, smelt of blood and death, and at five (almost six) years of age, she found no comfort in such smells. She was dressed simply, in a somber black gown with white lace trimmings, her hair wound in a plait, she had cried for most of the journey, she was glad she had been alone in the carriage. Her mother, her dear sweet mother, had the sweat she was not long left for the world. She would be forever grateful to the Queen for allowing her to leave court so that she may bid her mother farewell, the Lady Margret had not wanted her too and the King had been worried for her health if she was to make such a journey, but Elizabeth had all but willed for her to be allowed a few weeks of absence, once the Doctors had asserted that she would be in no immediate danger.

It had felt an age since she had been to her family home, she had been at court for much of the last year and a half, she could hardly even remember the last time she had seen her siblings, George would be almost two now, yet Anne could think of nothing but an infant when she pictured him.

She ignored the servants bowing their heads as she entered the entrance of Hever, she wanted to see her mother, she didn't want anything else. Mary was there waiting for her, her sister too was dressed in black, her blonde her pulled into a simple bun, her face looked sullen and grim, their brother was no where in sight, their father and governess had no doubt thought him too young to deal with such matters, Anne could not help but agree with such sentiments, George was only a baby, he would hardly remember their mother, and while Anne knew that she and Mary were both only children, she knew that neither of them would ever forget their mama.

" Oh Annie," Mary said as soon as she laid eyes on her sister, she pulled her into a warm and loving embrace and Anne could not help but feel somewhat comforted by the touch.

" Where is Papa?" Anne questioned, chocking on her words, she had not even noticed she had started to cry.

" He is with her, he has not left her side," Mary replied softly, Anne noticed that she too had tears in her eyes, " would you like to see her?"

Anne did nothing more but nod her head before following her sister along the all too familiar path towards their parents bedchamber, when they reached the door Anne found herself gasping for air, how was she suppose to face her mother? How was she meant to act? She didn't know what a person was suppose to do when somebody had died, oh she had experienced death before, two of her brothers had died, but Anne had hardly remembered them, they had died when they were just babies, Anne had had no real connection to them, not like her parents had. This was her Mama; Anne did not know how she was going to stay strong.

Mary did not go in with her, Anne supposed she had already said her goodbyes; perhaps she didn't have the strength to face their mother again. Anne didn't think her father had noticed her presence, if he had it didn't seem that he cared.

Her mother did not look like herself, her skin was ghostly pale and glistened with sweat, her nightdress too seemed soaked, her light brown hair was sticking to her face, and Anne could not even tell if her mothers eyes were opened, the slight rising and falling of her chest allowed Anne to see that her mother was at least breathing, she had not been to late, that was something at least.

She could just barley hear her fathers voice, shaking and pleading, never in her years had she remembered him to sound so desperate. She made no move to interrupt him, she could only think that the pain, that he was going through was a thousand times more than her own grief.

" Don't go, please don't go," Anne could not tell if her father was addressing her mother or pleading with God, perhaps it was a mixture of both, " just because you have done everything that you have promised, please don't leave me. You are the milk of human kindness; the light in my dark dark world, without you life is a desert of howling wilderness. Please God in your mercy, don't take her away from me, my children need their mother, and I need my wife."

" Papa," Anne said gently, placing her hand on top of her parents entwined ones, both of their skin was cold to touch. Her father all but jumped at the sound of her voice.

" Annie," He said, still not looking away from his wife, " we were not expecting you."

Anne did not know how to respond to her fathers remark, she did not know how she was suppose to give him any sort of comfort, so she just gripped his hand tighter, it was something her Mama often did when one of them were sick and Anne had always found it to be a great comfort.

" I will leave you two for a moment."

As he father left the room, Anne was overwhelmed by the thick silence, for a moment she wanted her Papa to come back, to cradle her in his arms and tell her everything would be alright, breathing deeply Anne pushed such thoughts from her mind, The Lady Margret would tell her to pluck up her courage and face her fears, she was to be the Duchess of York, a Tudor girl, she had to be brave and strong, even if every fiber of her being was telling her to sob and scream that life wasn't fair.

She sat in the chair left unoccupied by her father with a deep breath, flattening the skirts of her black gown as she did so. She never wanted to wear the dress again.

" Mama," she said softly placing her small hand into her mothers much larger one, her mothers fingers seemed so skinny and frail, Anne thought her touch might break them.

She had not expected a response and so when her mothers voice all but echoed around the silent chambers Anne had to fight the urge to jump, " Annie, little Annie, " the voice was so unlike the one Anne associated with her mother, it frightened her to hear something so weak coming from a woman so strong.

" Yes Mama, it's me, " Anne replied softly fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall, she didn't want her mother to see her upset she had to stay strong she had always been the strong one.

" Oh Annie, I am so sorry, I won't be there to see you grow, but I want you to always remember who you are and where you have come from and above all else I want you to remember that I love you, I love you Anne and I bid you to never forget it."

" I won't Mama," Anne promised solemnly, laying her head on her mother's slowly rising chest.

When her father came back to the room she had fallen asleep, when he woke her up, it took her mere moments to realise that her mother had stopped breathing, and finally she cried.

* * *

**15th of March 1507**

**Eltham Palace**

Harry absentmindedly traced a finger along the outline of Jane's naked form, her skin was slightly glistened with sweat, and she had a small contented smile upon her face. She was truly a beautiful woman, she had all the graces expected of someone with French blood, yet all the beauty of a true English rose. Her hair was blonde and her skin pale, she had a figure full of womanly curves, Henry did not even mind that she was older than him, her age suited what they had well, he didn't need some silly creature that was likely to gloat, he needed someone who would no how to keep her mouth shut.

He had taken her as his mistress in the later part of the last year, no one other than Charles knew of it, his father would be beyond furious if he were to find out, Harry could just picture his voice in his mind, _**" no son of mine will be some womanizing scoundrel,"**_ so they had kept it a secret, it didn't bother Harry either way, besides being housed at Eltham, where Jane was in his sisters service made it easier, his parents prying eyes and the presence of his betrothed were absences that he was more than content with.

He couldn't help but move his gaze to the letter lying on the table in his bedchamber. It was from his grandmother and as always it concerned the Lady Anne. Her mother had died, and his lady grandmother, as well as his mother and father, had informed him to send a letter of his condolences to both Anne and the Boleyn's, he didn't know what such sentiments would bring, it was not as if his words would somewhat ease their sufferings.

He could still remember his parents grief when his siblings had died young, with Edmund especially they had been most distressed, Henry too had been sad to lose his brother and sisters, he could not even begin to imagine what it would be like to lose his mother, nothing he would say to his betrothed would give her any comfort or feelings of relief, he was not a child he knew he could not ease her sufferings with a few well placed words, Yet his parents and Grandmother had demanded it and as such he would abide by their wishes, even if he did think it somewhat pointless.

" My Prince," Jane's voice purred in his ear, her hands wandering in the sheets between them, " Am I not interesting you?"

" Of course you are Sweetheart," Harry replied, shaking away the thoughts of Anne Boleyn that were invading his mind, " Forgive me, you have my attentions."

" Good," Jane responded smiling at Harry's response. She did not love him, not that it mattered for he did not love her either, what they had was a convenience to both of them, for the young Prince because it gave him something to do with his time and allowed him to take his mind off of all that bothered him, and for Jane it gave her some level of Royal favor; she knew she would always hold a special place in the Duke of York's thoughts and affections. He would have his wife, he would no doubt have other mistresses, but she would forever be his first, and for now that was all that mattered.

* * *

**July 8th 1507**

**Richmond Palace**

Margret stared at the girl across from her with a firm expression, if Anne was bothered by Margret's sternness she did not show it, but then she had yet to look u from her lap, or give any other audible answer then a simple 'yes madam.'

She was still dressed in blacks, still deep in her mourning for her mother, Elizabeth had said they had called her back from Hever to quickly, that a girl so young and tender hearted could not be expected to simply forget her mothers death in a matter of months, a year even, Elizabeth had informed them would not be enough time. Margret had not listened to her and Henry as always had trusted his mother's words.

Anne could grieve her mother all she wished, but Margret needed the girl with her, Anne was leaving for the Netherlands the following year, Margret would not have her sent there as an uneducated fool. The girl was to be a Tudor in all the ways that counted and Margret would make sure she acted like it.

Yet when she looked at the girl in front of her (now six years in age), she could not help but think that perhaps Elizabeth had been right. She was dressed well, as she always was, in a deep black gown with blue fur trimmings, but her face and demeanor lacked their usual charm, even her eyes lacked their usual sparkle. Everyday the girl attended her lessons without complaint, but other than that the girl hardly left her rooms unless she was ordered too. This was not the young girl Margret had come to know over the past years, this was not the girl she and Henry had envisioned as the future Duchess of York, and with Katherine still yet to find herself with child again, Anne grew more important daily.

Margret would not have the girl moping away her life and opportunities, even if she did have reason for her distress, Margret would not stand for it any longer.

" Lady Anne," Margret said seriously, the girl did not look up at her words.

" Yes Madam," Anne responded addressing the skirts of her gown.

" I do not believe I have spent all this time teaching you, to have you be so rude, when someone addresses you will look at them." She did not intend to scare the child, but her voice left no room for Anne to think that she was being anything but serious.

" Forgive me Madam," Anne said finally looking up, their eyes locked together and Margret realised there were tears in her companion's dark blue orbs.

" Now Anne, I understand that you are hurting at the moment, to lose a parent, especially so young is not an easy thing, " Margret spoke softly, her eyes never leaving Anne face, she wanted to make sure she had the girls complete attention, " However I will not have you moping your days away, you are to be the Duchess of York, a Tudor girl, you are neither weak of mind or of heart, your mother would not want this, she would want you to be happy and to take your opportunities, to enjoy the life she created for you. You want to make your mother proud don't you?"

" Yes, My lady," Anne responded after some moments of silence, she suspected the girl was somewhat shocked by her words, they had all been treating the girl with a lot of care since she had returned to court.

" Well then, do your mother proud, stop this moping and be glad for the time you did have with her, rather than thinking of all the time you won't, you will hold your head up and put a smile on that pretty face and be the girl we all know you can be my dear, your mother would want nothing less."

* * *

**27th of February 1508**

**Stirling Castle, Scotland**

" Your Majesty," Margret ignored the voice addressing her, her mind was to focused on what lay beyond the door in front of her. She vaguely heard the words _"there was nothing we could do,"_ but she paid it no notice, she would not believe them until she saw it herself.

She walked past those in front of the door to her sons nursery with her head held high, they would whisper now, no doubt, Margret Tudor was unable to produce healthy heirs, they would say her blood is cursed but she didn't care, she cared only about her boy, her sweet little Jamie, taken from her just days after his first birthday, the doctors could not even give her a cause.

The room was eerily silent when she entered it; it was empty, all except for the cradle, the small little bed that held her dead son. James had refused to come with her, he did not want to lay eyes on him, their focus should be on the child now in her belly, not on their dead son, but Margret could not think of it that way. She had carried and birthed the boy, she had watched him grow, had heard his first words and seen his first steps, she could not simply forget he had existed just because God had chosen to take him from her. The child in her womb would not replace the one they had now lost, it would not be him, oh if it were a boy they could name him James and the whole world would just forget her first boy, but Margret never would.

He looked like he was sleeping. His little eyes were closed shut, his head turned slightly to the side, for a split second she thought they had been lying to her, he child was alive and well, God would not take him from her, but as she reached a hand towards his cheeks they were ice to touch, and that's when she noticed the almost blue complexion of his skin, and realised that his tiny little chest was not moving, and the realization sent her body into shock, and before she even realised what was happening, she was collapsed on the floor of the nursery, sobbing hysterically for the life that was so cruelly taken from her.

* * *

**June 7th 1508**

**Court of Savoy**

The halls were extensive; long and narrow, Anne thought that there was a never ending line of turns and corners, the palace was not quite as large nor as grand as the ones she had become accustomed to in England, yet still Anne found the place slightly intimidating. The groom in front of her was all but running, Anne found his state of dress so un-English that it almost pained her to look upon him. She missed England already, her father was not even with her, he was once again in France, serving as the ambassador, he had taken Mary with him this time, George had stayed behind with their governess, Anne could not help but wonder just when she would see her siblings again.

With a heavy sigh Anne pulled up the skirts of her pale blue gown, in an effort to keep in step with the man in front of her. The dress she was wearing was one of the simpler ones she owned, Lady Margret had all but insisted upon it, she was not going to the French Court after all, the Archduchess would want to see an intelligent and well presented girl, not a silly frivolous fool who only cared for her appearance. And so Anne had been dressed in her pale and plain blue gown, that was adorned with only a small beaded flower upon the bodice, the only jewelry on her body her 'B' pendent, and her hair she wore in a simple bun, Anne just hoped the Archduchess would be pleased by her.

She had to be brave; Anne knew that, she was six years old now far to old to be afraid of silly things. It was as the Lady Margret always told her, She must stand tall and smile even if she did not want to she must always act a proper lady even if she were angry or scared or afraid, She was the future Duchess of York, Prince Harry would not want to marry a scared little girl.

Throughout her life Anne had often wished to be more like her sister, to be as pretty and as appealing as her, with her blonde hair, blue eyes and womanly figure (already at the age of eight). Her father and mother always said that Mary was a true English beauty, maybe that was why Prince Harry never seemed interested in her, maybe he would have preferred a girl like Mary. Yet it was Anne who King Henry had chosen, it was Anne who was in the Netherlands, at the court of one of the most respected woman in all of Europe. This Anne had to remind herself was her chance, her chance to prove her worth, to prove to everyone that doubted her that she was the right choice of bride for the Duke of York.

When they finally entered the rooms of the Archduchess Anne was slightly taken aback by the noise and business of it all. Queen Elizabeth's rooms were always quiet and (slightly) boring, while the Lady Margret expected nothing less than a strict no nonsense household, the loudness of the room, like everything else, seemed foreign to her.

" Your Grace," The groom said from beside her, and Anne watched as the lady, who could be no one other than Margret of Austria came to stand before her. She was dressed head to foot in black, the only colour coming from the ruby crucifix around her neck, her light hair was only slightly visible behind the hood she was adorned in, but Anne thought the lady to be pretty enough, she dressed similarly to the King's mother, perhaps she was still mourning from the death of her husband. Anne herself had worn black for months after her mother's death.

" Your Grace," Anne said respectfully, her curtsey graceful.

" You must be Anne Boleyn, Thomas' daughter?" Anne was grateful that the archduchess' question was addressed in English, while Anne knew languages quite well, especially for someone as young as she, she was afraid that in her nervousness she might just mess up her words.

" Yes, My lady," Anne replied, she was surprised to be addressed as anything other than the future Duchess of York, but then her father had always spoken fondly of the archduchess.

" And how old are you Lady Anne?"

" I am just recently turned six your grace," Anne responded trying to sound far beyond her years.

" Ah well then you shall be _la petite Boulin, _the Future Duchess of York."

* * *

**A/N: So what did you all think? I debated long and hard about whether or not I should kill off Elizabeth Boleyn, I hope no one was too disappointed in my decision, it also meant that I didn't have too many Elizabeth's to deal with ha-ha. **

**I am sorry for the lack of Arthur and Katherine moments in this chapter there will be some in the next chapter, which will go through the period of 1509-1510. **

**I also hope no one was too upset by the death of Margret Tudor's son James, but there are many things I have decided to stick by history with, and Margret had just as bad luck with bearing healthy children as Katherine of Aragon did. **

**Anyway I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Pretty pretty please. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: First of all I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone that has taken the time to review, put the story on alert or favorite either the story or myself, I do truly appreciate it. **

**There are a lot of big moments and some character development unfolding in this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it and that it does not disappoint, it was difficult to write in some parts which is why it has taken so long to write. **

**I own nothing, except for my ideas of course, please enjoy.**

* * *

**21st of April 1509**

**Richmond Palace**

The Kings rooms were dim and quiet, the only sounds coming from King Henry as he struggled to breathe, his wife and mother too could be heard, although both of them were trying to keep their sobs under control.

Arthur was there too, the three most important people in Henry's life, his mother, his wife and his heir. He had already said his goodbyes to young Harry and Mary, Margret, would not doubt be informed by a letter, his poor daughter had experienced so much loss since she had departed for Scotland. He was under no illusions that he would survive his illness; the priests had already given him his final rites, now it was time for him to say his goodbyes.

" Mother," Henry croaked, his voice only just audible, he outstretched his hand and she gladly took it. He had never seen her so upset; she was always so reserved, so calm and collected, yet now she looked weak. He had felt her pain before; no parents should have to bury their child.

" Yes my son," Margret said tearfully, she cursed God for allowing her to look so weak in front of her family, but she couldn't help it, this was her son, her only child, she could not imagine a world without him in it, and she didn't not want to imagine how England would survive without him.

Arthur was a good boy, he was a kind and gently soul (although like all Tudor's he had a stubborn streak) he would be a just ruler, it was Katherine who Margret truly feared, Katherine and her Spanish blood, no doubt once she was Queen Katherine would do everything in her power to connect Spain with England, and Margret feared that one day England would become subservient to Spain.

" Look after my children, teach them all that you taught me, " Henry said softly, he just hoped that his children, his son's especially would listen to his mother, she was a smart woman, smarter than most men, her council was something to listen to, she just hoped they would not be too proud, " I owe you everything mother, I am sorry to leave you so soon."

Margret simply nodded her head at her sons declaration, she would do as he asked for as long as she could she would offer her grandchildren her wisdom, Harry especially would need her. She placed a light kiss on her son's head, it was cool and sweaty to touch, before she left his side so that Elizabeth might say goodbye.

When Elizabeth came before him, Henry could tell that she was struggling to keep her tears at bay.

" Elizabeth my dear," Henry said using all the strength he could to say his words, she would be the hardest to say goodbye to, she had been his wife and companion for twenty-three years, together they had had seven children, while he had not loved her at the beginning he could not deny his love for her now. " I need for you to be strong for our children, I know that I had been cruel to have them raised away from you and I am sorry for that, but they will need their mother now just as I have always needed my Queen."

" Oh Henry," Elizabeth cried, burying her head into her husbands chest, it was too soon, it was far too soon, she was not ready to lose him. Not now, not when everything was still so uncertain, " I promise you, I will never love another, and I will be with you again."

Henry simply nodded his head at his wife's words, if he said anymore to her he feared his composure would break. Their marriage was an unusual one, as most arranged marriages were; yet still it was something only the two of them would ever understand.

" Arthur my boy, " Henry said, as Arthur took his mothers place at Henry's bedside, " I want you to be a good and just ruler, as well as a good husband to your wife, and a good sibling to your brother and sisters."

" I promise, I will do my best to make you proud father," Arthur promised solemnly, his voice sounding far beyond his years.

" Arthur promise me that no matter what is asked of you, that no matter who asks it of you, I want you to promise me that you will not break the betrothel between Harry and Anne, promise me."

Arthur looked squarely into his fathers eyes as he responded his words firm, " I promise father," He would not break the promise, not for anything or anyone.

Henry smiled one last time at his son before closing his eyes, finally he was at peace, his line would continue and it would be strong.

It took just over an hour for King Henry to breathe his final breath; Margret, Elizabeth and Arthur had stayed beside him the whole time, all of them wanting to be present when the King left the world.

" The King is dead," A voice called from beside them, Arthur could not quite place it, " Long live the King."

* * *

**24th of June 1509**

**Westminster Abby**

Arthur had never before been so nervous; his wife was beside him yet still it gave him little comfort. He was the King of England now, yet today he would be more than just a King in name, today he would be crowned and anointed, the undisputed King of England, the King who had bought the houses of Lancaster and York together. The King his father had promised would preside over a golden age, at just twenty-three years of age that seemed like an awful lot of responsibility.

No expense had been spared for their coronation, Arthur had also insisted upon them having a joint coronation (as much as his grandmother had protested), this was to be their country, Katherine would be England's Queen just as much as Arthur was it's King, it seemed only fitting that they do this together.

The streets to Westminster were lined with tapestries, the initials of A&K were seen in every corner, there were thousands upon thousands of commoners all of them no doubt hoping to see a glimpse of their new King. The men that Arthur had appointed as Knights of the bath the previous day were dressed splendidly in blue. Edward Stafford, the Duke of Buckingham was in front of the royal couple. Arthur had appointed him constable of England for the day, and as such he was dressed in his finest clothes carrying with him a silver baton. Further in front of the Duke walked twenty-eight bishops, leading the way to the Abby.

Arthur himself was dressed in his finest clothes, specially created for the coronation. He wore a robe of crimson velvet, trimmed with ermine, as well as a jacket of cloth of gold, decorated with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, pearls and many other precious stones. His horse too, a fine black stallion, gifted to him by Katherine on his last birthday was dress with ermine and cloth of Gold, as was the canopy held of them by the four barons of the Cinque Ports. Katherine was riding next to him, she wore her dark hair loose down her back, her dress was gold in color with silver undertones, and in her hair she wore a coronet set with many rich orient stones. Like Arthur her horse a while palfrey was draped in white cloth of gold.

Following the royal couple was the reminder of Arthur's family. Young Harry was the first of them, as the Duke of York he would have nothing less. Like Arthur Harry too was dressed splendidly in a blue doublet. Following Harry was his mother and sister, Elizabeth, now the dowager queen, was still dressed in her mourning attire, Arthur doubted if he would ever see his mother in any other color other than black again. Still she looked happy enough waving to the crowds on onlookers with a smile plastered on her face. Mary seemed awed by the occasion, but no doubt his young sister, dressed splendidly in green was enjoying the excitement of the occasion.

His Lady Grandmother had decided to skip taking part in the procession, she would meet them at the Abby, and Margret Beaufort had never been one for Pomp and fanfare. Arthur however thought that there might be another reason for his grandmother's absence, one she was not willing to share with her family. Her health had been declining since his fathers death, and Arthur could not help but wonder if she had chosen to remain absence from the festivities simply because she did not wish to look weak in front of the common people.

If his wife was nervous Arthur could not tell, she looked simply radiant beside him, waving and smiling at her new subjects with ease, already they were in love with her. Arthur could not help but wonder if perhaps his wife's calm demeanor had something to do with the secret the two of them currently shared. Katherine was pregnant, for the first time in four years. Neither of them were overly hopeful they had known since his illness that a healthy child was a remote possibility, and both of them still remembered the pain of their last loss all too well, as such they had told no one, until Katherine was showing neither of them thought there to be a need.

When they reached the entrance to the Abby both Katherine and Arthur dismantled from their horses, and walked down the long path to the alter where two thrones, decorated lavishly were waiting for them.

The Archbishop of Canterbury, William Warham led the proceedings. " Long live the King," he proclaimed four times before asking the crowd gathered in the abbey if they would "receive, obey and take," Arthur as their King, all in the crowd cried " Yes," and Arthur sighed a slight sigh in relief, he knew it was just ceremony but still it was good to feel like he was wanted.

Taking a deep breath Arthur swore the nine oaths of kingship as he was instructed to before Warham anointed him with the holy oils and crowned him with St. Edwards crown. Katherine was crowned immediately after with much less fanfare.

" Long Live King Arthur," The crown cried in union, " Long live Queen Katherine."

* * *

Harry liked feasts and banquets as much as any man at the age of eighteen did, yet for some reason Arthur and Katherine's coronation feast just put a sour look on his face. His father had died, and already everything had changed. His brother was the King of England now far more important than Harry who as always remained the Duke of York. He had stupidly questioned his mother as to why he had not been invested as the Prince of Wales, given that he was Arthur's heir now. His mother had simply stiffened in response to his words, before claiming that the title of Prince of Wales was one reserved for the son of the King, and he was simply the King's younger brother. Harry had still thought it stupid, he was the heir to the throne, he thought that he should be treated as such, and besides it wasn't as if there was any guarantee that Arthur and Katherine would have any children, wasn't that the reason he had been betrothed to the Lady Anne in the first place? Harry didn't even like to think of what it might mean for him if his brother and sister-in-law did have healthy children, if Katherine gave Arthur two sons Harry would no longer be the Duke of York, he didn't know what he would be, if that happened Arthur might even break Harry's betrothal to the Lady Anne and have Harry join the clergy and that was something Harry most defiantly did not want.

To add to this, Harry was also highly bored, none of his companions, other than Charles, had been permitted to attend the festivities, as such Jane was not present, and Harry knew without a doubt that trying to make any kind of a move on any of Katherine's ladies would only cause him trouble. Charles was also of no help to him, Mary had dragged him away to dance with her almost an hour ago now, and Harry did not see his sister freeing his friend any time in the near future.

His mother was seated beside him, a fake smile planted on her face, she was still greatly troubled by his fathers death, and Harry knew she was also slightly upset at his Lady Grandmother. His grandmother had attended the festivities for not even an hour and she had refused to take part in the coronation service, she had claimed illness (which Harry did not think unlikely at all given how frail and ill she had been looking), yet Harry knew his mother thought that she was simply refusing to show her support to Arthur and Katherine because of her dislike for Arthur's bride.

Harry himself choose to not think of such things, The Archbishop of York, Thomas Wolsey, a great favorite of Harry's had recently gifted Harry York Palace, for his eighteenth birthday, Arthur had yet to be told, but Harry thought it only fair that being the Duke of York, and an adult now that he leave Eltham and move to an establishment of his own, to set up his own court and rule over the people in York as was his responsibility, it would also give him an opportunity to learn to rule, something one of his tutors, Sir Thomas Moore, said was vastly important especially if he were to one day be King. Harry would focus on that, it seemed to him to be a much better alternative than worrying.

* * *

**20th of October 1509**

**Holyrood Palace, Scotland **

" It is a son Your Majesty," Margret sighed in relief at the midwives words, the labor had been long and tiresome, much longer than her previous two had been.

He was not crying, Margret did not know what to think of that, James had made little noise when he was born, her daughter born just months after her sons' death, had not cried she had not made a single sound, she had been born dead and Margret had been inconsolable for weeks. Her newborn son was not crying, and Margret did not want to think it to be a sign that he would follow in the footsteps of his siblings but she could not help it.

" Is he healthy?" Margret questioned her voice firm. She needed to know from the beginning if her child would live or not, she did not want to suffer such pains for a third time.

" Yes my Lady, " The midwife responded her tone gentle, " He's a little small and quiet, but that's nothing to be concerned about."

Margret simply nodded her head in response to the older woman's words, allowing her ladies to wash her and change her so that she might be able to hold her child.

He was a Tudor through and through that was all Margret could think when she looked at her son, he looked nothing like Jamie had, he had a head full of Tudor red hair, and although he was skinny he was long limbed, and had a beautiful set of brown eyes similar to those of her father (god rest his soul) and he elder brother. The boy had his Father's nose and mouth, and for that she was thankful, Margret didn't need to hear whispers of her sons legitimacy she heard enough about her ability to sire a healthy living child.

James would be inclined to name their son after himself, but Margret did not think herself ready to have another boy named James. Henry was a good as a name as any but Margret did not think herself ready for that either a boy named Henry would only remind her of her father and the fact that she had not been able to see him before he died. The boy would be Arthur; James would not refuse her she was sure.

Arthur Stewart, Duke of Duke of Rothesay and Albany, the future of Scotland. Margret just hoped that this time her child would live to see out his potential.

* * *

**January 12th 1510**

**Court of Savoy, The Netherlands **

" Anne…Anne…Madamusale Boleyn," Mister Symonnet, Anne's tutor over the past two years, was an older man at forty-eight years; his hair was slightly graying and his face and hands were wrinkled, an often thought that it gave him a look of wisdom.

" I'm sorry sir," Anne responded, her tone slightly disgruntled as she turned her head away from the window she had been staring at.

" Have you been listening to a word I have spoken to you?" Symonnet questioned, looking at his young charge with a slightly bemused expression upon his face.

"Mais bien sûr monsieur, ' _why of course sir, _Anne lied her French perfect, in the two years under her tutors instruction, she was excelling in languages, French especially.

" We have only an half an hour more Anne, then you may go outside with the others," Symonnet responded, his tone not lacking in affection, yet still Anne pouted slightly.

" But today is such an utterly perfect day," Anne retorted, a slight wine in her tone. The weather was so perfect Anne felt that songs and poems should have been written of it, it was neither too hot, nor too cold, and the sun was shining just perfectly. Yet Anne was stuck in a dimly lit room (because my Symonnet liked everything quiet dim) room, with but a small piece of bread and cheese to munch on, " could we not finish a little early?"

" We may," he responded, causing Anne's face to light up in a smile, Lady Margret had never been so easy on her, " when and if you learn all that needs to be learnt for today. Do you not think Her Grace would be disappointed if you do not do as she had requested?" He finished his words with a knowing smile, and Anne could not help but feel a small surge of anger curse through her veins, he knew as well as anyone the strong level of affection Anne had developed for the Archduchess, she would never wish to displease the woman who had given her so much over the past two years, seeing the somewhat dejected look upon his charges face, Symonnet kindly added, " Never fear Anne, we shant be too much longer."

When Anne had finally been allowed to leave her lesson, she found the ladies outside in the gardens, a beautiful feast scattered around them. Five of Margret's ladies had been dancing, and Anne could not help but think that they resembled a flock of swans somewhat; they danced so beautifully that they seemed to be almost floating through the air. Bella, Anne's closet friend, was one of them standing at the front of the group a wide smile gracing her face. Two of the others were twin sisters, Georgina and Maria, blonde plum woman, who as always were without a care in the world. Elizabeth Herbert (a fellow English girl) was also there, Anne could not help but think that she looked quite out of place, with her awkward stumbling steps, the last of the woman was Grace Rochester (also from England), her perfect blonde ringlets were as always placed perfectly around her face, her skin was pale but at the moment it was slightly tinged pink, she was a small and delicate woman, a few years older than Anne (as most of the woman in Margret's service were), she moved gracefully, every step well timed and in place. She was in most ways the woman every girl strived to be.

Anne had recently taken to following the older girls lead, Prince Harry would want a wife like Grace Rochester, a woman who was well dressed and always kept up with the current fashions, a woman who danced and sung and did all the other things expected of woman well, however Prince Harry would also need a woman like his lady Grandmother and the Queen, someone well learnt and well spoken, a woman who was not afraid to voice her opinions but who also knew when to keep her mouth shut, Anne was striving to be all of those things, so that one day young girls would imagine being like her.

"Annie vous êtes au début," _Annie, you are early_, Anne was glad to note that Margets voice did not sound displeased by her premature arrival. She outstretched her arms and Anne gratefully went into them, "J'espère que vous n'étiez pas faire pression pauvre Monsieur Symonnet en vous donnant de départ anticipé," _I hope you were not pressuring poor mister _Symonnet _into giving you leave early._ Margret had just recently taken to speaking to Anne in only French; as she spoke she twirled a strand of Anne's hair in her slender fingers, a knowing look upon her face.

"Bien sûr que non madame," _of course not madam_, Anne replied trying (and failing) to hide a smile, when the Archduchess raised an eyebrow Anne quickly added, "ainsi peut-être un peu," _well maybe a little._

Margret laughed at Anne's words, "J'ai des nouvelles de l'Angleterre," _I have some news from England. _

"Bonnes nouvelles j'espère," _good news I hope_, Anne responded, the last piece of news she had received from England (other than her monthly letters from Prince Harry, which informed her of virtually nothing), was the news of King Henry's death.

Anne had been shocked to find herself so upset and touched by the King's death, she had not known him well, but he had always been kind to her and it was because of him that she had gained so much, so much more than anyone ever would have expected.

"Très bon_," very good_, Margret responded nodding her head, "La reine Catherine est lourd avec l'enfant, et doit rendre à la fin du mois," _Queen Katherine is heavy with child, and due to deliver at the end of the month. _

"Que je prierai pour la naissance d'un prince sain," _than I shall pray for the birth of a healthy Prince,_ Anne responded dutifully, yet she did feel a small level of sadness cursing through her body, if the Queen delivered a healthy male child, then Anne would never be the Queen of England, but she knew it was not good of her to think such things, the title of Duchess of York, was more than she could ever hope for, she was more than content with it.

"Comme je doit," _as shall I,_ Margret said her voice kind, she knew as well as anyone what it felt like to never carry a child in her womb, Anne just prayed that she would never be so unlucky, "Maintenant, venez, montrez-moi cette danse Bella a été de vous apprendre," _now come show me this dance Bella has been teaching you._

* * *

**31st of January 1510**

**Richmond Palace**

Katherine had never felt such pain in all her twenty-four years of life. She had thought that her miscarriage had been painful, but this actually bringing a child into the world, was a thousand times more painful then losing one had been, Katherine just hoped that it would not all be for naught.

Arthur had insisted upon the Royal physician being present in the birthing chamber, a prospect Katherine could tell that Doctor Butts was not entirely fond of, most men she knew believed the birthing room to be a place for woman only, but the King had insisted and Katherine knew no one would refuse him.

Her labor was slightly premature, but both the midwives and doctor Butts had told her that that was nothing to worry about. She had spent the majority of her pregnancy on her knees praying for a living child, for a son to be born as the living image of his father, and as her stomach continued to swell each and everyday Katherine just knew that God had heard her prayers.

They had waited months to make an official announcement, and when they finally did it was as if the whole country had erupted into celebration, all except for a few that was.

Prince Harry had smiled dutifully and congratulated them with warm words, but Katherine could see the slight look of disappointment in her brother-in-laws eyes, he wanted the throne she had no doubts about it. When she had voiced such concerns to Arthur, he had told her to stop being paranoid, it was one of the only times she could ever remember him sounding angry at her. The Lady Margret had not even tried to hide her disappointment, Arthur's grandmother had all but retired from court since King Henry's death, she only came when she deemed it absolutely necessary, she had refused to come to court to await for the birth of Katherine's child, Arthur had brushed it off, as he always did, his grandmother was an old and ill woman he had explained they could not expect her to make such long journeys so often. Still Katherine could not help but think that she too had desires for Harry to be placed on the throne.

" I can see the head Your Majesty," The midwife said and Katherine could not help but sigh in relief.

" You are doing so well my dear," Elizabeth's voice was in her ear, clutching onto her daughter-in-laws hand with great strength. At first Katherine had been shocked that Elizabeth would want to attend upon her during her labor, she was grateful now that she hadn't refused. Maria was on her other side, whispering a Spanish prayer that Katherine found more than comforting.

With one last almighty push Katherine felt her child leave her womb and land in the waiting hands of the midwife. The silence that followed was almost deafening.

Katherine watched the scene-taking place in front of her with attentive eyes. At first the midwife looked relaxed but then as she examined the child further her expression turned worried, Doctor Butts too did not look overly pleased. Elizabeth left Katherine's side after a few moments, clearly going to see what was going on, they talked to each other in hushed whispers, all of them casting worried glances Katherine's way.

" What is it? What is wrong?" Katherine demanded, her tone verging on hysterical and her Spanish accent coming through more than she would have like, it always did when she was upset.

" Katherine," It was Elizabeth who addressed her, tears in her eyes as she took Katherine's hand into her own, " I am sorry, the child is not long for this world."

Katherine wanted nothing more than to break down in response to her mother-in-laws words, she wanted to cry and scream that life was not fair. For just over eight months she had carried this child in her belly only to have it be lost to her after she bought it into the world, she wanted to cry but she didn't. She was a daughter of Spain, the Queen of England she was not a weak woman and she would not show herself to be, taking a deep breath Katherine fought back her tears before addressing Elizabeth.

" What is it?" She questioned her voice quiet but firm.

" It is a girl," Elizabeth responded her tone slightly confused.

" I wish to hold her," Katherine said, sitting herself up on her pillows. She thought that it was better that this child was a girl, the loss of a boy would be much worse, not for her but for England.

" Katherine I do not think…"

" I said I wish to hold her," Katherine demanded, this time her voice was louder her tone more firm. She would not let her child die without ever knowing the embrace of a mother's love.

Elizabeth simply nodded her head in response to Katherine's words, She had done the same thing after the birth of her last child, she knew the pain all too well, taking the barley breathing infant out of the midwives arms, Elizabeth bought the girl to her mother, placing her in Katherine's waiting arms without even looking at her granddaughter. Elizabeth did not think she could bear the sight of her.

Her daughter had dark hair just like her own, and her eyes were a dark blue Katherine thought that if she had of been destined to live past her first birthday that they would have turned brown like Arthur's. She was a pale and small baby; her skin was cold and clammy to touch. If she had been borne healthy Katherine thought that she would have been rather beautiful.

" The King must be informed," Katherine said, her eyes never leaving her daughters face, the little girl looked like she was in pain as if the effort of breathing was painful to her, Katherine just hoped that her suffering was not long. The sound of her door opening and closing let her know that her wish for Arthur to be told was followed.

She sat for just over an hour with her daughter, Maria and Elizabeth on either side of her, the midwife and Doctor Butts had left her, once they were assured that Katherine was healthy, that the birth had not damaged her body in some way. As the time went on her daughters breaths became shorter and more prolonged, Arthur never came, Katherine could just imagine that his grief was too great he would no doubt blame himself for their loss, yet still Katherine wished he would have come to at least look at their daughter before she died.

" I wish for her grave to be marked as Katherine, Arthur and I had agreed that our first daughter would be named Katherine." Katherine said softly, her daughter had stopped breathing now but Katherine did not want to tell anyone not yet, she just wanted a few more moments.

Placing a light kiss on her daughters forehead Katherine could not help the tears that began to fall nor the sobs that escaped her body, she wanted to believe that her daughter was in a better place now, that one day she would see her again, but she couldn't, her grief was too great for even her faith to comfort her.

**A/N: Ok so there it was please let me know what you thought, reviews make me so very happy and do so inspire me to keep writing. **

**This chapter had some very big moments for a lot of characters, firstly King Henry has no died as he did in history, this obviously means that Arthur is now King and Katherine is Queen. Obviously this development is also very important for Harry who now has to see his elder brother once again labeled as more important than himself. **

**Margret has given birth to her third child (and second son), and dubbed him Arthur (as she did in history), for at least the moment she is secure in her position. **

**Harry has been gifted York Palace (Hampton Court) by Wolsey, I know I know this did not happen until much later in history but as this is an AU I have decided to move this event to a lot earlier. It will cause some conflict, especially between Harry and Katherine. **

**Anne is excelling in the Netherlands, her education is moving along very well, she is soon going to become the woman we all know and love. **

**So Katherine gave birth to a living child only for that child to die after an hour of life in her mother's arms, I am sorry I am so cruel. **

**And Margret Beaufort has lived past her life in history, for now. **

**The next chapter will have some very important historical events; I plan to have at the most four more chapters until Anne and Harry's wedding. **

**Once again thank you for reading and please review. **

**P.s I am sorry if there were any mistakes in my French I have never learnt the language I used a translator. **


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